


Half-cocked and Full of Steam

by UnCon



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Connor apologizes too much, Elijah Kamski is mentioned in this WAY too many times, Friends to Lovers, Honeypot programming, M/M, Post Game, Undercover Mission, dubious consent with original male characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:54:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23370517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnCon/pseuds/UnCon
Summary: The roughness of the uneven terrain pulled Connor from his thoughts. He blinked a few times, adjusting his sights to the hotel in front of them. Hank was beside him, the small tremors in his fingers could be from the cold or their mission.Connor preferred if they were nonexistent. The lieutenant hadn’t slept well in years, but these past few days had been worse than normal. The android figured it was their mission, it’d been the only thing to recently change.“Hank,” Connor started, rolling the name on his tongue with some difficulty. Even after everything—The Revolution, deviancy, their friendship—Connor found it difficult to call the lieutenant by his first name, now more so that he had to. “You could’ve asked for a reassignment,” he said, cutting to the chase.Hank shifted his gaze to Connor, his scowl softening before he spoke, “Homicide and Red Ice cases are my specialty, Con,” Hank sighed, “can’t just quit now ‘cause I’m a little uncomfortable,” he continued, a smile playing on his lips.ORHank and Connor go undercover and Connor fucks it up more than once
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 8
Kudos: 87





	Half-cocked and Full of Steam

**Author's Note:**

> Helloo~
> 
> As I take a mental break from my larger works, I present you this...whatever the hell it is. This has been in my WIPs for far too long (8 months or so) and I've finally finished it. 
> 
> For what it's worth, I hope you enjoy it, and please excuse any mistakes (and that terrible summary). My works are never beta read, so I run the risk of forgetting what the fuck English is when I edit. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think!

The roughness of the uneven terrain pulled Connor from his thoughts. He blinked a few times, adjusting his sights to the hotel in front of them. Hank was beside him, the small tremors in his fingers could be from the cold or their mission.

Connor preferred if they were nonexistent.

He scanned the hotel, its towers scraping the sky, the bright lights striking. They blurred as he watched Hank, worry slithering into his mechanical heart. The lieutenant hadn’t slept well in years, but these past few days had been worse than normal. The android figured it was their mission, it’d been the only thing to recently change.

“Hank,” Connor started, rolling the name on his tongue with some difficulty. Even after everything—The Revolution, deviancy, their friendship—Connor found it difficult to call the lieutenant by his first name, now more so that he _had_ to. “You could’ve asked for a reassignment,” he said, cutting to the chase.

Hank shifted his gaze to Connor, his scowl softening before he spoke, “Homicide and Red Ice cases are my specialty, Con,” Hank sighed, scratching his bearded chin. He’d trimmed it for this occasion, trying to feign the persona of a businessman on vacation. “Can’t just quit now ‘cause I’m a little uncomfortable,” he continued, a smile playing on his lips.

“That might be an understatement, Lieu—Hank,” Connor countered, correcting his hiccup.

“Gotta’ be careful with that, Con,” Hank reminded, as they pulled up to the valet, “they’ve got ears everywhere.”

“I know,” the android said, annoyed. He could do this, he wouldn’t jeopardize their mission because of some faulty wiring.

“Watch it,” Hank warned, opening the door, the wind-chill hitting him like a bucket of ice. Hank shivered, forcing himself out of his warm car in nothing but a suit and tie. The valet took his keys, greeting them with a trained smile.

Connor hesitated, mindful of their weapons in the glove compartment. This was to be a friendly interaction, but he couldn’t help the uneasiness in his programming—he’d been designed to be cautious.

“You coming or what?” Hank snapped, opening the trunk.

“Honestly, it’d be best if I slept here,” Connor answered dryly, “maybe become friends with the electric cars.” He stepped out of the vehicle, taking the only thing that belonged to him—his jacket.

“Did you _not_ wanna’ go on this mission?” Hank whispered, heaving a sigh, “you can be my back-up if you’re not willing to participate.”

“I’m more than willing!” Connor snapped, his LED blinking furiously, “it’s natural for me to be apprehensive, but don’t confuse it for cowardice.” He left the lieutenant’s side, marching towards the entrance of the hotel.

“Alright,” Hank said, holding up his hands in surrender, “didn’t mean to offend.”

Connor stood a bit stiff as Hank approached with their suitcases, keeping a tight lip as he followed him into the building. He tried to relax, to let his qualms with the case die in the background as he scanned the faces of the people they passed. Each one offered a unique story, most were worth more than Connor, but none fit the description of their target. A mister Elias McCormick, co-founder of a large tech company, second only to CyberLife, and son of billionaire Daniel McCormick.

According to his file, he was a social butterfly, hosting parties for financial investors and politicians. Because of his large circle of influence, not only was he beneficial to their Red Ice problem, they presumed he had a direct connection to the head of one of the drug distributors. Connor and Hank were going under the guise of future business partners, trying to gain an invitation to the largest fundraiser of the year. It normally wouldn’t be an issue to forge one, but Elias—in all his paranoid brilliance—issued one-of-a-kind paper invitations, complicating matters.

The android took a deep breath. Reading his tasks always cleared his mind of doubts. He shouldn’t question his own competency—he blamed that fallacy on deviancy.

Hank checked them in, thanking the android bellhop taking their belongings and leading them to their suite. The room had a singular queen-sized bed—for obvious reasons. It didn’t make it any less lavish, and Hank felt a hole burn in his pocket despite not having to pay for it.

“This really wasn’t necessary,” Hank grumbled once the door closed behind them, “we could’ve stayed somewhere cheaper.”

“We’re covering our bases, Hank,” Connor said, “the more we pretend to belong, the less suspicious we seem.”

“Whatever,” Hank said, opening the suitcase. He didn’t pack much, only the necessary garments and a few extras. Besides that, he’d brought his work tablet and his emergency pistol—you know, just in case.

Connor, on the other hand, had an array of outfits, ranging from casual to formal. He currently wore his white button-up shirt and khaki slacks, the only distinction being his LED. Hank wasn’t gonna’ comment on his partner’s over-packing, it was his second undercover mission after all.

The young officer explored the room, heading towards the balcony first. It held a gorgeous view of the city, the CyberLife tower visible on the horizon. Below them was the swimming pool, illuminated from within. Those who used it looked like ants from Connor’s perspective. He almost forgot to scan them, distracted by the glamour.

Hank finished rereading his file, spotting the android stargazing when he stood. Connor seemed lost in thought, the light at his temple spinning in a slow circle. The lieutenant cleared his throat, catching his attention. “So, how’re we doing this?” Hank asked, unsure where to start.

“How about a drink?”

Hank raised a brow, his smile ironic, “I’m not here to get drunk, Con.”

“I know,” the android said, “but Elias likes to entertain, what better place to start than the bar?”

He had a point.

Hank conceded for the second time that night, letting the android lead them towards the elevator and into the bar. He wasn’t about to ask how Connor knew the location—he’d learn to assume the android had a working blueprint of every major building in Detroit.

They got comfortable on the barstools and Hank ordered a drink for good measure. Connor kept his comments to himself, but his slight pout was enough to irk the lieutenant. Hank ignored the urge to defend himself and asked for a refill.

The android looked around, occupying his mind with the mission instead of Hank’s health. He didn’t notice a man approaching him until a hand was on his shoulder, a too-friendly smile plastered on his face.

“Hello.”

“Hello,” Connor replied, calming the sudden spike in his heartbeat. Scanning the blond revealed his name and age: Rudy Shepperd—46. It didn’t take more than a few seconds to learn he was the owner of the hotel, or that there was a tangential link between him and their target. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” the man said, grabbing the bartender’s attention, “mind if I buy you a drink.” It wasn’t a question.

Connor looked surprised, his face struggling to hold a polite smile, “I’m an android,” he said, latching on to the one thing that made sense.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Mr. Shepperd reassured, his eyes creasing as he grinned, “we cater to everyone.” On cue, the bartender pushed a blue drink Connor’s way.

“Thank you,” the android replied, eyeing the sparkly drink with trepidation.

Hank snorted, getting another shot—this should be good.

“Pardon me if I seem a bit forward,” Rudy began, pushing up his glasses, “but I couldn’t help myself—I’ve never seen a model like you before.” He said it as if he were sharing a secret, his brown eyes curious, if not a bit intense.

“He’s with me,” Hank spoke up, saving Connor from further scrutiny.

Rudy seemed undisturbed by the fact, keeping his gaze on Connor as he addressed the lieutenant, “And you are?”

“Hank,” he replied through another drink.

Connor furrowed his brow, disappointed by Hank’s dismissal of their agreed-upon aliases.

“And yours?” Mr. Shepperd continued, his lips quirking.

“Connor.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Connor,” the man said, his tone sincere, “I’m Rutherford, but my friends call me Rudy—I hope we can be friends.”

“Hey buddy,” Hank slurred, increasingly irate with their uninvited guest, “go stick your dick in something else.”

“Hank,” Connor reprimanded, taking the glass from the man’s hands—much to his chagrin. “I think you’ve had enough,” he muttered, returning his attention to Rudy.

“I’ve been caught,” the blond said, holding up his hands, his smirk settling easily on his face.

“You were being extremely obvious,” Connor said, returning the smile.

“No use beating around the bush,” Rudy sighed, “wouldn’t want to upset Mr. Grouchy-pants over here,” he said, looking forlorn.

“No, please,” Connor was quick to say, not wanting to seem rude to the hotel’s owner, “you’ll have to excuse my partner—he’s had one too many.” Hank grumbled something under his breath, and if Connor cared to translate it might have sounded something like ‘fuck you.’

“Oh, he’s your partner,” Rudy said, surprised.

“Yes.”

“In that case, sorry to disturb you,” Rudy sat straighter, distancing himself from the situation, he would’ve left, but the android was so unique—he just had to ask, “why him?”

“Pardon?” Connor asked, taken aback.

“Why settle for him?” Rudy elaborated, eyeing the drunken man. Hank had his face buried in his arms, his breaths coming evenly as he dozed on the counter.

Connor frowned, the question rubbing him the wrong way. “We work well together,” he said, looking over at his friend, “despite what it might seem.”

“Interesting.” Rudy rubbed his chin, staring at the android for a minute too long. “In spite of this minor setback, I’d like to get to know you better, Connor,” he said, placing a delicate hand on the android’s shoulder, “if I may.”

Connor nodded, glad for the opportunity to continue their conversation. “What would you like to know?”

“What brings you here?” Rudy asked, ordering a drink for himself, “as far as I’m aware, androids don’t take vacations.”

“We’re actually on a business trip,” Connor said, stretching the truth, “we’re, hoping to catch Mr. Elias McCormick, possibly speak about a merger.”

“Eli?” Rudy seemed surprised, “you want to talk to _that_ rat bastard?”

“Yes, do you know him?” Connor asked, already knowing the answer, but not wanting to seem too informed.

“Unfortunately,” the man huffed, shaking his head, “he’s my cousin, practically lives here.”

Connor’s LED spun, the opportunity to learn more flashing in his peripherals. “Would it be too much to ask to meet him? At least for a quick word.”

Rudy thought about it, sloshing the liquor in his mouth before swallowing. “Normally, disturbing our guests is against the hotel’s policy,” Rudy began, noting the immediate disappointment in Connor’s face, “but, I can’t see the harm in pointing you his way,” Rudy continued, his brown eyes drinking in the android’s smile.

“Thank you, Mr. Shepperd,” Connor said, relief flooding through his wires.

“Of course,” Rudy said, dismissing the android’s gratitude, “but I must warn you, he has an affinity for pretty things,” he admitted, taking the liberty to touch the android’s cheek.

Connor’s smile petered out as he moved away. “I appreciate the warning.”

“Any time,” Rudy said, brushing off the rejection, “you’ll often find Eli in the spa, he’s seldom alone but that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Connor nodded, saving the information. He looked at the lieutenant, the man’s silver hair contrasting wildly with the black countertop.

“By the way,” Rudy said as he stood to leave, “if you ever get bored, this is my apartment number.” He placed a small card in Connor’s hands, winking as he left.

The android ignored it, leaving it on the counter when the man walked away. “Hank,” Connor said, poking the lieutenant, “wake up.”

“Wha—”

“We’ve got an appointment with Mr. McCormick,” Connor informed, pulling Hank out of his seat.

“How—”

“If you’d been paying attention, you would know.”

“I stopped listening when you called me a drunk,” Hank said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“I never said that,” Connor corrected, leading them to the elevator.

“You didn’t have to.”

“If it bothers you that much, you could consider cutting back,” the android suggested, sympathy tainting his tone.

Hank grumbled another swear word, leaning against the glass of the elevator as it brought them to their floor. It was cool against his forehead, a much-needed respite from the heat of his embarrassment. Maybe he should’ve forfeited this assignment. He couldn’t think beyond that as Connor tugged him toward their suite, undressing, much to his confusion. The lieutenant had sat down, trying to sober up enough to see properly. “What are you doing?”

“Like I said,” Connor said removing the rest of his clothing in one fell swoop. Hank covered his eyes, wondering idly if androids had the capacity for shame. “We have an appointment with Elias.”

“So, why are you changing?” Hank asked, “you going on a date or somethin’,” he joked, snorting at the ridiculousness.

“Or something.”

“What?”

“His cousin owns the hotel,” Connor said, pulling up his swimming shorts, “I managed to get a solid lead on Elias’ whereabouts,”

“Connor, what the fuck are you talking about?” _What had he missed?_

“We’re going to the spa,” the android answered, donning a complimentary bathrobe.

“What’s this ‘we’ you keep saying?”

“You’re my partner, Hank,” Connor said—the most obvious answer, “I assumed you wanted to be involved.”

That shut Hank up. He bit the inside of his cheek as he looked at the time: quarter to 12. Sighing, he undid the latches of his suitcase, taking his time sifting through his clothing in search of something appropriate. He found his swimming trunks, he wasn’t sure why he had them, maybe he’d taken them by accident.

Connor’s impatience was given away by his LED, the blue light flickering amber as he waited by the door. He watched the timer count down in his peripherals, unable to shake his need for punctuality.

“Don’t blow a fuse, I’m coming,” Hank said, ruffling the android’s hair as he walked past him and out the door. They beelined towards the elevator, taking the quickest route towards the spa. 

“Hank,” Connor said, holding the lieutenant back with his hand, “I think you should let me do the talking.”

“You’re fucking with me, right?”

“I’ve already spoken to his cousin,” Connor pointed out, seeing that as a good thing, “he mentioned Elias’ _interests_.”

“What, are you trying to fuck him?” Hank huffed, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Of course not,” the android said, indignant, “I’m simply calculating the best outcome.”

“And what’s that, exactly?” Hank asked through gritted teeth, “this ain’t a Honeypot mission.”

Connor chose to ignore the jab, setting his jaw as he answered, “I’m following the best route.” Hank looked skeptical, his faith in Connor put to question by his eagerness. There were better ways of getting what they needed without leading a guy on. The android held Hank’s gaze, his tone steady as he said, “Please, just trust me.”

Hank sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Fine, but if it goes tits up, I’m calling dibs on saying I told you so.”

“Deal.”

With a confident stride, Connor walked into the spa, the humid air bombarding his sensors, the heat from the pool sliding down his wires. The room was nearly empty, so searching for Elias wasn’t difficult. He was accompanied by two androids, one male and the other female. He had his chin nuzzled into the male’s neck when Connor approached, Hank close behind him.

The lieutenant looked unamused, hanging back while Connor felt slightly put off. “Sorry to interrupt,” Connor said, his confidence draining, “are you Elias McCormick?” he asked, already knowing the answer. 

Elias looked up, his face erupting into a grin, “That I am,” he said, his southern accent thick, “and who might you be?” he asked, interest shining through his smirk.

“I’m Connor.”

“Please, Connor, come in,” Elias invited, beckoning the android, “the water’s just right.”

Hank rolled his eyes, letting the android do his thing as he dipped a toe in the scalding liquid. Thinking he might as well take advantage of their work-cation, he disrobed, sinking into the water. It took a second to adjust, as the upper layer of his skin boiled off. He stayed within earshot, but kept to himself, thinking that if Connor needed him, he’d call for him.

The android did a quick scan before going in, keeping Hank in his sights. Connor didn’t know where to begin, though thankfully the human had no trouble filling the empty space. “So,” Elias began, stretching his limbs, the androids by his side sidled closer, taking advantage of the surface area, “you obviously know me, it only seems fair I get to know you.”

Connor felt a bout of déjà vu running through his code, he dismissed it, feigning a smile, “What would you like to know?”

“What’s your model number?” Elias asked, catching Connor off guard, “I only ask ‘cause I’ve never seen any like you before—and trust me, I’d remember.” Elias’ smirk screamed ‘billionaire asshole’ to Hank. After their unfortunate run-in with Kamski, he thought he’d be done with their kind.

“It seems so trivial now, don’t you think?” Connor said, running a hand across the water, “I’d expect something like that from Elijah, not a tech mogul such as yourself.” Hank snorted, the look on the billionaire’s face priceless. _Way to hit him where it hurts, Connor._

Elias schooled his shocked features into a polite smile, his tone inquisitive as he spoke, “You know Kamski?”

“I’ve had the _pleasure_ of meeting him, yes,” Connor said, wincing at the reminder.

“He can be quite the disappointment, can’t he?” Elias said, using the android’s discomfort to his advantage, “I’ve heard he’s shorter in person.”

Hank had to submerge himself to stifle the surprised laugh leaving his throat in bubbles—it wasn’t pleasant, but at least he was ignored.

“I hope we’ll have a better meeting,” Connor said, moving his attention towards Hank for a split second.

“I have a feeling we will,” Elias said, his eyes roaming over the android’s body, “but I also have a feeling you aren’t here to chat.”

“Am I that obvious?” Connor asked, his cheeks darkening. It’d been a calculated response, one he hoped would make him seem meek and harmless in the billionaire’s eyes.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Elias said, brushing the other androids aside, “you’re not the first person with ulterior motives,” he continued, swimming closer to Connor, “but you are one of the prettiest.”

Connor was quick enough to duck before Elias touched him, taking a few steps back, steadying himself in the water. “I’m sorry, I should have disclosed my intentions before accepting your invitation,” Connor said, dancing circles around the man when he got near.

“And those were?” Elias asked, enjoying the chase. It was slow and comical, but nonetheless entertaining, Connor’s resistance spurring him on.

“I’m a businessman of sorts,” the android said, stepping back, “I wondered if I could ask you some questions, specifically about your involvement with Emanuel Sole and the rumours surrounding his recent scandal—” Connor ceased talking when his back hit skin and muscle instead of the pool’s edge. Hank stood behind him, looking amused but otherwise undisturbed.

“You seem to know more about me than I thought,” Elias said, squaring his shoulders, “maybe we can continue this somewhere more private?” he suggested, wary of the silver-haired man.

“I don’t think he’s going anywhere with you pal,” Hank said, pulling Connor by the waist, “you seem to have some ulterior motives of your own.” The brunet relaxed against his arms; Hank wouldn’t have noticed if they weren’t so close.

“Mind your own business, _sir_ ,” Elias said, “I’m sure the android can think for himself.”

“Well, _this_ android doesn’t wanna’ talk anymore,” Hank said, his irritation lapping at the edges of his voice, “the smart thing to do would be to leave him alone.”

“I’d listen to him,” Connor said, content to stay in this weird position if it meant Elias stopped chasing him.

“Who are you anyway?” the billionaire asked, rolling his eyes. No one, no matter how beautiful, was worth the headache.

“Name’s Hank, now go away,” the lieutenant gruffed, his grip tightening around Connor. Elias ignored them both, preserving his pride as best as he could by leaving with the two androids waiting for him.

Hank waited until they were alone to release Connor, crossing his arms with a look on his face, “You good?”

“Yes,” Connor said, avoiding the lieutenant’s eyes.

“Then allow me the honours,” Hank began, clearing his throat, “I told you so.”

“Hank,” the android said, trying to find a viable excuse, “I had a plan, it was just—”

“You weren’t willing to commit,” Hank interrupted, pointing a finger at the door, “that man was in the palm of your hand and you blew it,” he said, shaking his head.

“I know, I’m—”

“Save it,” Hank held up a hand, leaving the warmth of the pool, “we’ll find another way.” He took his robe with him, drying off as he left.

Connor stood by himself, wallowing in his failure. He didn’t like disappointing the lieutenant, especially since he’d hijacked the assignment to try and prove a point. He reviewed the footage in his mind, wondering why he’d stopped. Like Hank had said, the man had been putty.

With a rough sigh, Connor exited the pool, using his internal body heat to evaporate the water from his skin. He returned to his room, expecting the lieutenant and his disappointed face, but neither were there. A nasty coil of realization passed through him, and it took everything within him not to march into the bar and drag Hank back to their mission. He knew he’d messed up, but that didn’t give the lieutenant any right to get ‘shit-faced’.

Connor began changing into something less revealing, rethinking his strategy. All might not be lost, he mused as he looked at his body. There was obviously something about it that the human had liked, enough to put up a substantial show against the lieutenant—at least for a moment.

He ran a few fingers through his hair, loosening his curls. Forgoing the tie and leaving the topmost button open, Connor scanned the hotel’s registry list, locating Elias’ room as he tied the laces of his shoes. He thought twice about leaving a note for the lieutenant. On one hand, it was best not to leave a paper trail, on the other, he could get compromised and Hank should have the right to know his general whereabouts.

Connor had to rectify this, and he’d rather do it alone. Maybe then Hank would stop babying him.

The android adjusted his shoulders as he took the elevator to the penthouse, following the directions in his mini-map. He cleared his throat, and double-checked his plan, forced himself to follow through this time. He knocked and waited, hoping he hadn’t misjudged Elias’ interest as silence filled the hall.

The billionaire opened the door, and to his credit, didn’t look surprised when he saw Connor. He was clad in a satin blue robe, white koi fish stitched in the black lapels. He held a glass of champagne in one hand, swirling it gently as he let Connor have the first word.

“Hello, Mr. McCormick, sorry to bother you,” Connor felt his programming falter for a millisecond, his deviancy posing a larger problem than he’d thought it would. “I wanted to apologize for earlier, I know it can be overwhelming when androids unload all their knowledge on a person.”

“Is that all you wanted to do,” Elias said, looking like he’d slam the door according to Connor’s response, “apologize?”

The android bottled his uneasiness and threw it into the ocean, plastering a flirtatious smile on his visage. “It also wouldn’t hurt to continue our conversation from the pool.”

The billionaire seemed impressed, granting Connor access to his lofty apartment. So, this is what being cousins with the owner got you. A family of four could comfortably call this a home with room to spare. There was an indoor infinity pool that touched the edge of the glass overlooking the city. The chandelier spread twinkles of light across the wooden floors, giving the room a warm glow. There were paintings by famous artists hanging askew for a pretentious effect, and the hedges were trimmed to perfection.

They were drowning in luxury and they were only in the living room.

“So, what did you want to say?” Elias urged, placing a hand on the small of the android’s back. Connor hid his flinch with a polite laugh, moving to touch the nearest statue.

“Is this _Margot_?” he asked, knowing that the human knew he was stalling.

Elias’ eyes burned bright with predatory delight, his unassuming expression humming with danger. Something about being alone with him had Connor’s skin jumping, and were it not for the mission, he would’ve rather taken his chances jumping off the balcony than standing here any longer.

“Indeed,” the billionaire answered, fingering the abstract sculpture, “I’ve got a larger piece in my bedroom if you’re interested.”

“Maybe later,” Connor said, fighting with himself on which direction to take this conversation. It wasn’t long ago that he’d agreed to do anything if it meant getting an invitation to the fundraiser and the drug dealer. He was starting to understand what that meant. “I’d rather hear about you.”

Elias chuckled, taking a swig from his glass. “What would you like to know?” he asked, “that you can’t already look up, that is.”

“Self-made billionaire at the age of 25, without daddy’s help, might I add. A direct competitor to the largest tech company in the world projected to overtake it now that it’s illegal to manufacture androids. Philanthropist, conservationist, and apparently excellent at golf,” Connor listed off, walking around the man, “am I missing anything?”

“Looks like you’ve read my autobiography,” Elias said, looking slightly put off, “most of that is filler, not very many people get to see my reality.”

“Well,” Connor said, cocking his head, “don’t make me beg.”

The human laughed, the sound bouncing off the marble countertops. He walked to the wet bar to refill his cup, downing the champagne with some urgency. He turned, flashing a smile to the android. “That’s unfortunate, I would’ve loved to hear it.” The way he said it had Connor’s skin pricking with disquiet, a wave of nausea coming from deep within his robotic core. He didn’t let it change his coquettish expression, he ran with it instead, making progress despite his discomfort.

“What can you tell me about your hobbies?” Connor began, inching towards the billionaire, touching the uncovered part of his chest. “You know, the ones they don’t disclose in those exposés.” The android was a good three inches taller, he used the height difference to his advantage, walking them back into the bar.

“Are you a cop or something?” the billionaire joked, emboldened by Connor’s attitude. He snaked a hand towards the small of the android’s back, tracing obscenities into the fabric of his suit. The thread-count was noticeably sub-par, it almost gave him an excuse to get Connor out of it. “I’m sure that pretty face has sent some people to jail.”

Connor giggled— _giggled_ —as he let his cheeks darken, a calculated attack. “I’m sure you’d recognize me if I were a cop,” he said, looking abashed, “I’m just trying to find out what you do for fun.”

Elias narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the android through the lens of his glasses. “I recall you saying you were a businessman,” he took the last sip of his champagne, placing the glass on the counter, “yet you failed to mention a name, or even what you do.”

“It’s quite an early startup,” Connor said, straying far from the DPD’s original plan, “we’re working towards gaining more exposure.”

“Ah, there it is,” Elias said, betrayal tainting his tone, “and here I thought you were kissing my ass to make me feel better.” The man shook his head, disappointed. “Is that how you know Elijah, did you try to suck his dick too?”

“No, I—”

“Save it, sweetheart. I get it, you’re desperate,” Elias said, shoving the android out of his way, “but this innocent act you’ve got going on ain’t gonna’ work on me.” The man rounded the small island, pulling an expensive bottle of liquor. “Been burned too many times,” he mumbled, undoing the seal and pouring it straight into his mouth.

“You misunderstand—”

“Don’t let the door hit you on your way out!” It was the last thing Elias said before he turned his back to Connor, beelining towards the swimming pool and ignoring any further pleas.

Feeling more like a disaster than a robot, Connor left, running a hand down his face hoping it would clear his head. He’d blown it, permanently this time. Not only did he not have any more information, but he’d made their only lead suspicious. Hank would have a field day chewing him out.

His fear forced him to hesitate by the hallway, to linger until he was ultimately called back to their room. He couldn’t face the lieutenant, not with failure etched on his forehead. He walked towards the common area, sitting in an oversized chair as he thought through the variables of a next plan. Connor’s eyes were closed, disabling his most taxing sense. Minutes crawled by as he re-read their objective, searching for the individuals he knew and the ones that needed further investigation.

He was pulled from his reverie by a surprised voice. It took Connor a moment to connect the sound to a face, and face to a name. The android could feel the lag of his brain as it resurfaced to consciousness, taking a moment to process his surroundings. I’d only been half an hour, but he felt much older, more exposed.

“Were you sleeping?” Rudy asked, sitting in the seat opposite to the android.

“No,” Connor shook his head, unable to deny that it had been as good a guess as any.

“What are you doing here?” the owner continued, drawing a conclusion as he recognized the pathway to his cousin’s room, “all alone, might I add.” His eyes swept over the android, noting the relaxed nature of his outfit, how he’d ruffled his hair, the brightness of his cheeks.

“I was thinking,” the android replied, figuring the truth wouldn’t hurt.

“It never ceases to amaze me when your kind says that,” Rudy chuckled, patting the android’s knee, “I take it your meeting with my cousin didn’t go as planned.” He didn’t even have to ask; Connor’s shame was carved in every line of his frown. “He’s a hard egg to crack, especially when he’s getting nothing in return,” Rudy raised a brow, his smirk bordering on cruel, “unless you _were_ offering.”

Connor stood, his Thirium pump twisting with indignation. He was not gonna’ sit here and be talked down to! He was a person, dammit, not a manipulatable object. “I must go,” he said, excusing himself.

“Woah, what’s the rush? Did I strike a nerve?” Rudy asked, resting an arm around the android’s shoulders. “I’m sure there are better ways to spend your time than wallowing in self-pity,” the owner continued, leading Connor in the opposite direction. “I would like to show you something.”

The android didn’t think entertaining the man would bring him anything beneficial but returning to Hank empty-handed still stirred dread in his heart. So, he followed, memorizing the nearest exits should the time call for it.

“Look at that view,” Rudy said, displaying the magnificent horizon from the topmost floor. Connor grew shy of the ledge, his self-preservation kicking in. “Isn’t it something?”

“It’s something,” Connor agreed, picking up small details, like how the hills grew sharper as they climbed the skyline, and the skyscrapers petered out the farther you were from the city centre. He could craft a direct line to the home he shared with Hank, where Sumo waited patiently for their return. It made him wish this mission were over, that he’d learnt from his first mistake.

“You’re thinking again,” Rudy noted, poking Connor’s LED, “about what, I wonder?”

“Have you ever attended any of your cousin’s fundraisers?” the android asked, “as either an investor or a guest,” he specified after receiving a confused stare.

“You mean the self-congratulatory party he throws for himself every year?” Rudy corrected, rolling his eyes, “I’ve gone, if only to make our grandfather happy. But now that he’s passed, I don’t see why I should.”

“I hear it’s nearly impossible to get in,” Connor commented, trying to feign the perfect amount of interest, “many high-profile individuals are banned from the invitation list. Elijah Kamski being one of them.”

“You’ve done your research,” Rudy complimented, shaking his head as he grinned, “that grudge match does my cousin no favours, if anything, it paints him as petty. I bet you brought him up in conversation,” the hotel owner guessed, chuckling when Connor’s face fell into an embarrassed grimace. “If I’d have known, I would’ve warned you.”

“It would’ve saved me some trouble, yes.”

Rudy gave a long sigh, pulling Connor closer. “I take it you want in?” he asked, his hand rubbing the length of Connor’s arm. The android had no choice but to nod, his options growing slimmer by the minute. “I could get you one, for a little favour of course. Nothing you weren’t willing to do for Elias.”

Connor shuddered, feeling the android equivalent of bile climb up his throat. He had to shuck his dissent off the balcony, let it crash downwards into the blackness below. Hopefully, it would stay put long enough for him to get the ticket. He could see the triumph in the human’s face when he nodded, doubling down on his need to complete the mission successfully. Hank had mentioned there was another way, _this_ was his other way.

* * *

Hank’s palm stung where he’d held the troublesome android. He rubbed it on the towel for the millionth time, trying to forget how it felt, how smooth and hard Connor’s muscles had been. No use torturing himself with the information.

When the dust of The Revolution had settled, and everything went back to ‘normal’, the last thing Hank had expected was for the android to stick around. The kid was like an oversized puppy at best, a mechanical burden at worst, and lately that thing they called a heart kicked up a fuss whenever Connor was close. Hank had stopped questioning most things and let the answers reveal themselves at the end of a bottle, but this...he couldn’t even bring himself to define it, much less investigate what it was.

His only solace was Connor’s ridiculous naivete when it came to emotions—deviant or otherwise. He didn’t pester Hank when he tripped over his words, didn’t query when his fingers lingered in his soft brown curls. It was fine at first when Hank wasn’t aware of his feelings, but now it felt like he was taking advantage. So, like any good millennial, he repressed and ignored, limiting their interactions to what he hoped wasn’t an obvious attempt to distance himself.

Hank only slipped once since imposing these stricter regulations. He’d been drunk (apparently, not enough) and Connor had fallen asleep on his shoulder. His soft breaths had hit Hank’s skin like feathers, tickling him. He’d forced himself to sit straight and look forward, but his wayward hand disobeyed, reaching up to brush away a stray strand of hair before he even had a chance to blink. Lucky for him, Connor hadn’t noticed or didn’t care, and nothing else was said about it.

He should technically count this as a slip, but the mission and circumstance had called for the action. Hank would ignore the anxious thrill like he did every other emotion the android elicited or drown himself in booze trying.

Hank reached their floor, his hand still itching. He rushed to their room, changing into something more appropriate, and left again. His mind blocking every insistence that he should stay put and reconvene with Connor about their next plan. The android still needed guidance—he might do something reckless if he was left alone to think. The lieutenant hesitated at the elevator doors, guilt worming its way into his gut, settling like a parasite. Shaking his head, he marched towards the bar, paying for his own tab in case the DPD wanted to do some investigating.

Connor swam in his vision the more he drank, an unfair paradox, as he was drinking to forget him. The bar had died down since the last time, the usual late-night patrons—men with women young enough to be their daughters—sat in the booths, playing poker and smoking electronic cigars. Those that sat by him were similarly despondent, their shoulders slumped, their faces long as they stared into the bottom of the glass. Hank had realized long ago he’d become a stereotype, another statistic for the psychology books—he didn’t need a visual reminder.

He forced his next drink to be his last, wobbling out of the chair as his legs tried to catch up with his body. He tripped, landing on the opposite stool, a sorry sight to any bystander. With an impaired gait and even worsened vision, he pushed himself upwards, pausing when his stomach revolted, nearly toppling an empire he’d spent many years to build.

“Huh-uh, not today,” Hank slurred, pressing his back against the counter and shimmying to the floor, letting his digestive tract resume normal peristaltic function before he aggravated it again. His fingers brushed against an imperfection on the floor, it caught against his nail as he slid against it, a delayed flinch his only reaction.

Hank picked it up after a moment, squinting at the odd lettering. It was only after an embarrassing amount of time that he realized it was upside down. He corrected the card, reading the request.

 _Meet me_ _in room 5036._

Ugh.

Hank tossed the paper in the opposite direction, rubbing his hands on his jeans, shaking away the cruddy feeling in his soul. He expected those things from alleyways and less than respectable drinking establishments. Not the fucking _Ritz-Carlton_ of Detroit hotels.

With his vision cleared and his thoughts sobered, Hank stood, using the counter as support for the first few seconds. He left—thankful he could still remember his way back. The last thing he needed was Connor’s critical stare as he hauled him to their room.

(Un)fortunately, the android wasn’t there to judge him. The only evidence that he’d returned was his slightly off-center suitcase and the note on the table. It was vague and to the point— _Going investigating; might be out late._

Hank snorted, walking towards the bathroom to empty his bladder. He brushed his teeth and splashed his face for good measure, trying to wake up enough in case his partner needed him.

Trying had been the operative word, however, and as soon as he sat in the chair, he fell asleep, waking only to the sound of an incessant buzz by his ear. Hank groaned as he stretched—his neck stiff from the uncomfortable position it’d been. He picked up his phone, searching for the answer button, confused when there wasn’t one.

He opened the notifications, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull as he read them. _Stress level 65%. Stress Level 75%. Stress Level 85%. Stress Level 95%. Stress Level Critical. Foreign Intrusion Detected—Oral._

_Honeypot Program Initiated._

“Connor, what the fuck are you doing?” Hank wheezed, grabbing his gun and badge as he ran out of the room. He wasn’t sure where he was going, the app wasn’t very specific. It was almost illegal to have the app at all. As the fight for equal android rights was tentatively won, many demanded the teardown of CyberLife. But they had to start small, go through the proper chambers of the government, petition for bills and laws to be passed. They wanted equal rights, they had to wait in line like everyone else.

Hank had asked Connor if he minded the app if he cared that Hank could look at his systems like a glorified technician. The android had said no, claiming the software to be more beneficial than detrimental. So, in the grey area that they lived, Hank kept it, using it only as an alarm. And thank fucking Christ he had.

The elevator spat him out on the 50th floor, the GPS blinking brightly that ‘he’d arrived’ but it said no more when he asked it to be more specific.

_Intrusion Detected—Anal_

Hank’s stomach gave a hard lurch, threatening to spill all over the expensive wooden floors. He paused for a moment to think, to use the needle as a compass. He read the numbers on the nearby wall, a groan of disbelief escaping him. It couldn’t be—the coincidence was too great. Regardless, Hank ran towards room 5036, his finger on the safety of his gun and the other on his phone, looking out for further notifications.

He took a deep breath before he did anything drastic (like shoot the damn lock). He’d reached the room, his instincts telling him to kick the door down, but his training reminded him this could be some John Doe, poor son of a bitch who’d left his number on the wrong end of the bar. Hank did the polite thing and knocked, a little harder than necessary, but it was better than going in half-cocked and full of steam.

There was no audible rustling, no indication that anyone was inside, but Hank’s attention was split between the phone and the door. There was an immediate correlation between Connor’s stress level decreasing and the unlocking of the bolt. The man behind the entrance looked dishevelled and had tried to hide just how much. His eyes filled with recognition as his gaze met Hank’s, colour draining from his face as it shifted to the gun.

“Oh dear,” was all that came out of the man’s mouth before Hank thrust himself forward, propelling the other into the floor. The lieutenant whirled his gun around, his vision red as he scanned the room for that misbehaving, self-sacrificing, doesn’t know common sense if it smacked him in the face, _idiot_ that he had to babysit three days out of the week.

Connor walked out of the master bedroom, his face flushed, and his shame hidden by an oversized dress shirt. He didn’t seem to recognize Hank at first, his eyes hazy, like they were wading through molasses. Hank thought the worse, his hands trembling at the demons his thoughts conjured. He dropped his gun in the process, his expression crumpling into absolute anguish, speech escaping him.

“L-listen, sir, it’s not what it—”

Hank could’ve deceived anyone with that body of his, it wasn’t fair that it still moved as fast as it did. It was the last coherent thought Rudy had before he was held by his neck and choked, the shock of it distracting him from the fist contacting his jaw. He saw pins of white, sure he’d have whiplash by the end of it.

There was screaming and crying, Hank was unsure of whom or what. He only knew he hadn’t come to his senses on his own. There was a person pushing at his chest, strong and firm. In the confusion he complied, letting go of whatever was in his hands.

“Hank!” Connor shouted, trying to bring the lieutenant back to reality. Never, in the two years that he’d known him, had Connor seen such unbridled rage from his partner. It was a frightening thing, and in retrospect, he was glad it wasn’t directed at him. “Hank, please stop, you’ve made your point.”

“My point?” Hank echoed, his voice raw, “what are you _doing_ here, Connor?”

It was the pained way that he said it that broke the android. He had tears pouring from his eyes and onto his borrowed shit, his LED a solid red as he stared into Hank’s accusatory glare, all the confidence leaving him at once.

“I—I was trying to fix,” Connor’s throat closed, language a foreign concept to his processors, “to fix my mistake,” he forced out, hoping the lieutenant would understand.

“What mistake, Connor?” Hank whispered, his heart shattering, “I told you we’d take care of this later. You didn’t have to do any of this, you didn’t have to—” The lieutenant clutched his chest, feeling like he’d die if he finished his sentence.

“I’m sorry, Hank.” It wasn’t an uncommon thing for Connor to say. It’d grown rarer as they’d gotten to know each other better, but it managed to appear on occasion. Now, it seemed like it was the first time he’d ever apologized—that all the others were for practice.

The lieutenant shook his head, rubbing his temples as he analyzed the situation. It didn’t look good for him if the still body on the floor was dead, his knuckles bloodied with the evidence. “We’ll talk about this later,” Hank said, swallowing every emotion and concentrating on the NOW, “go get dressed and help me with him.”

For once there wasn’t a comeback, nor a delay, Connor ran into the other room for less than thirty seconds, duping anyone who hadn’t seen him before. It made everything seem less real, it helped Hank deal with the stress in a more productive way, as he hauled the body onto the couch, pressing against his jugular just to double-check its vitality.

The pulse was thready, but present and Hank could’ve wept if he wasn’t under scrutiny. He’d messed the man up bad, breaking his nose enough to dislocate it, cracking his jaw, and giving him a black eye. With Connor’s help, he reset his nose, noting an audible difference to the man’s breathing. He sat Rudy up, using pillows to support him. Hank was still in a shit-ton of trouble, but at least manslaughter wasn’t in the list of pressable charges.

“Get me some rubbing alcohol and a first-aid kit,” Hank said, unable to meet Connor’s eyes, “please.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

Hank wouldn’t comment, knowing now was neither the time nor place to correct or reprimand. He accepted the objects when they were presented to him, coating some gauze with the isopropyl and waving it below the hotel owner’s nostrils.

Rudy woke with a groan, holding his head as the pain hit him in waves. The first as he tried to breathe, and the other when the opened his mouth. His eyes were in similar straits, only one cooperating with him. He almost wished he hadn’t opened them, as his attacker’s grizzly face came into view. Rudy flinched, looking for an exit and finding himself trapped by the couch cushions.

“Detroit Police Department,” Hank said, flashing his badge, “you can call them, but it’d be redundant.”

“What the fuck—agh!” Rudy cried, cradling his jaw, “I’ll have you arrested, you thug.”

“We have enough evidence to believe you and your cousin are involved in a drug-trafficking operation. Mr. McCormick’s fundraiser tomorrow is the optimal spot to expand your network. Now, if you still wanna’ have me arrested, you’re well within your rights to do so, but as I see it, it’ll be a bit difficult to press charges once you’re behind bars,” Hank explained, his voice deceptively calm.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Rudy grumbled, his vision spinning the more he exercised his jaw, “I’ve never dealt with drugs in my life.”

Hank knew this, nothing in the files indicated otherwise, and this was his largest bluff yet. “Connor, get me some ice.” He waited for the android before he said anything else. He wrapped the cubes in a makeshift pack, pressing them to the man’s face. “I won’t apologize for what I’ve done. Scum-bags like you are a dime a dozen, it’s not often you get put in your place.”

Rudy hissed, the ice a double-edged sword as it reduced and induced the pain. He didn’t make a comment on Hank’s words, thinking it best if he let the man say his piece. The lieutenant had a quiet fury in his eyes, doused only by his years of training. Nevertheless, one wrong move could set him off again.

“Now, you can either comply with our investigation or join Elias on a jail cot,” Hank continued, moving to stand next to his partner. He crossed his arms, masking how they trembled.

“As I said, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rudy said, feeling his jaw pop, “Eli might be involved in all that shit, but don’t rope me in with him.”

Hank narrowed his eyes, never moving them as he addressed Connor. “Did you get the ticket?” He was assuming that’s what the android was trying to obtain, _fix his mistake_ , he’d said.

Don’t think about it.

Connor shook his head, his head falling into his chest, a disappointment even after he’d gone to the extreme. He’d been close, he’d seen the fancy card, held it in his hands, but it’d been taken from him. Asked for compensation. Had Hank not interrupted, he might have walked away with it.

“Where’s the invitation?” Hank asked the wounded man, a no-nonsense attitude falling on his character. _This_ had been the reason for Connor’s stress, he wasn’t leaving until the damned thing was in possession.

“After everything, you still think I’m gonna’ give it to you?” Rudy scoffed, ignoring the sting of his scowl, “you’re lucky I’m a bit disoriented, or you’d be—”

“We’d be what?” Hank interrupted, pointing his gun at Rudy’s head. That shut him up, enough for him to reconsider his hard-headed stance.

“I-I, I was just saying this was a bit unprecedented,” the man said, looking down the barrel, “that’s all.”

“You took advantage of a young android’s inexperience, and by how willing you were to bed him, I say you’ve done this before. Now, I want that fucking invitation—I’ll rip it through your teeth if I must,” Hank threatened, his voice gravelly as he brought the cold metal closer, hovering over the man’s forehead, “do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” Rudy muttered.

“Good,” Hank said, sheathing his gun, “where the hell is it?”

* * *

The walk back to their room was tense, the silence between them a weapon of mass destruction. After they obtained the invitation, they set up emergency transport for the hotel owner. It went without saying that his cooperation—namely his silence—was greatly appreciated. Hank had hidden his bloody knuckles behind his back as they wheeled the man out, trained professionalism over his features.

Connor stood in the middle of their shared bedroom, holding the invitation like he was afraid it would grow legs and escape. He’d done some tasteless thing to get it, he’d be damned if he let anything happen to it.

“Con?” Hank began gently, placing a soft hand on the android’s shoulder. He flinched when Connor jumped, dropping his arm and taking a step back. The young bot turned to look at him, his lower lip quivering as his eyes filled with unshed tears. It broke the lieutenant’s heart, compelling him to bring Connor close, to drape him in warmth and affection, to give him a sense of safety he should’ve provided from the start.

“I’m sorry, Hank,” Connor cried into his shoulder, his thirium tears soaking through the fabric of his shirt, “I should’ve told you, I shouldn’t have gone by myself, but I’m always disappointing you, I just—please forgive me,” the android begged, his body shaking like a leaf in the wind.

“Shh, Connor hush,” Hank consoled, patting down Connor’s hair, attempting to comfort the desolate android, “there’s nothing to apologize for, you did what you had to do.”

“If I would’ve just _listened_ to you—”

“Hey, it’s done,” Hank said, taking the android by the chin so he could look him in the eyes, “you completed your mission, what matters now is that you rest.” He held Connor for a moment, waiting for his red LED to calm down to a blue. It took longer than he would’ve liked, but eventually, the android nodded, drying his eyes with a few blinks.

“Good, I’m gonna’ go wrap my hands,” Hank said, awkwardness seeping into his veins as he let go of his partner. He felt cold doing so, stiff as they dropped to his sides. “Go to sleep Con, you did well,” Hank urged, his disobedient hand going up to ruffle the android’s hair. Connor responded by pressing into the touch, his eyes closing with quiet gratitude.

Hank’s heart couldn’t take any more of it, so he walked away, hiding his emotions until he reached the solitude of the bathroom, and even then, he couldn’t look himself in the eye. What had he done, assaulting a man like that? It’d been a very long time since he let blind fury control him so absolutely. He didn’t know he still had it in him. His fingers were sore, to the point where he might have fractured one of them, but he couldn’t bring himself to care enough about them. All he could think about was Connor, how he’d looked walking out of that bedroom, completely bare ‘cept for a shirt that did absolutely nothing but trigger his overactive imagination. He must have been so scared, so alone, and Hank—the fucking bastard—couldn’t get his head out of the gutter.

Hank wanted to punch the mirror, to erase his own image from existence, but as it stood, he didn’t want to overburden the android. So, despite every nerve in him begging otherwise, he took his anger and let it flow out of his system with an exhale, then another, until the rage in his heart could be postponed, until it calmed to a quiet ember—present, yes, but harmless.

By the time Hank left the bathroom, he found Connor fast asleep on the bed, clad in nothing but boxers and one of Hank’s borrowed shirts. He took up less than half the space on the mattress, but it was too much, too close. Hank felt his stomach turn into a knotted mess as his anxiety reached a critical point.

They should’ve gotten a double room.

Hank must’ve spent thirty-minutes standing by the bed as he decided what to do. On one hand, he shouldn’t make such a big deal of sleeping in the same bed as his partner. He’s shared this space with strangers before, other partners, both romantic and professional, with no ulterior motives but to sleep. It shouldn’t be different now, but nothing came naturally with Connor. He was afraid of admitting his feelings, of bringing them to light, of Connor having a changed opinion of him—to see him like those dirty bastards he was trying to seduce.

Eventually, Hank had to get into bed. The stressful day and lack of sleep the previous nights did nothing but harm his productivity. Case in point, if he’d had been 100% he could’ve probably prevented this. He settled in his side, sinking into the mattress like an overweight stone. It was nice to rest in the lap of luxury for a day.

Hank was halfway through falling asleep when he felt a warm bundle shift towards him. It took his brain a while to perceive the shift as a friend, not foe, and to relax his muscles, which were so quick to react poorly in these circumstances. Connor scooted closer, and whether it was intentional or not, wrapped his arms around the top of the covers, sequestering the lieutenant.

So much for sleep.

* * *

Somehow, Hank _had_ managed some semblance of rest that night, waking with a start to the sound of his alarm. He was alone, which brought with it a grateful disappointment—it almost let him believe that last night hadn’t happened. Silencing the damned ring, he went about getting up, wiping the sleep from his eyes and stretching.

“Good morning, Hank,” Connor greeted, back to his cheerful pre-deviant android self, “I ordered breakfast,” he continued, holding the silver cloche and opening it to reveal a magnificent platter of food, far too rich and savoury for Hank’s destroyed palette.

He picked at it as he walked towards the bathroom, humming his gratitude before he shut the door. The shower he took was magnificent, the water hitting his skin like a well-placed sun’s kiss, he regretted leaving it. He almost wished this was a real vacation, just so he could stay put a little while longer, where he didn’t have to worry about false names and billionaire parties. 

Connor looked lost in thought when Hank approached him. The lieutenant watched as the android masked it with a bright smile, pushing the plates of food his way. “You need to be prepared for today, Hank, this may take the entire night,” Connor said, cutting the pancakes into squares to occupy his hands.

“You alright there, Con?” Hank asked, careful with his line of questioning—the last thing he wanted to do was trigger a relapse.

“Yes,” the android cocked his head, “why wouldn’t I be?” he asked, nothing in his demeanour giving him away, but the way his eyes widened a fraction gave Hank enough of a warning to not push it.

 _Huh, ignore and repress_ —Connor was turning into a right ol’ millennial. “No reason,” Hank said through a bite, “you got a plan?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Connor replied, the relief in his voice minute but still present. Hey, Hank could appreciate not wanting to talk about last night. He’d be okay with _never_ talking about it, but he knew that wasn’t healthy either.

In the end, their plan hadn’t changed much from the original ‘get in, get information, get out.’ The only challenge was trying not to get caught, which, considering how large the crowds for these things were, it couldn’t be particularly difficult.

At least Hank hoped they’d be okay—God knew they needed a break from misfortune.

* * *

Connor had managed to collect the pieces of his psyche one by one. It was enough for him to put them in a bag and deal with them later. He took the entire night to remind himself they had a mission to complete, a duty to not only themselves but to thousands who were under the influence of this dangerous drug. It worked, he only needed Hank’s help to play along.

Thankfully, the lieutenant knew the rules of the game.

Connor didn’t allow himself a moment’s respite to think about it, to even breathe a sentence or a memory lest it frightens his senses and overwhelms him. And he needed all his senses, as he used them to interface with an unsuspecting android, watching through their eyes as Elias took a hit of the Red Ice and laughed with his business partner. He was far too liberal with the details of their next shipment, congratulating himself for getting under the FBI’s radar. Whether it was the Red Ice talking, or the man’s own hubris was yet to be decided, but Connor was done listening—having gathered enough evidence.

It took a few weeks and many well-placed operatives to carry out the interceptive ambush. Connor and Hank were there for support, providing details of places, persons, and things to expect. No sooner had the ships parked on the docks that the cargo was surrounded, a large helicopter with a sniper trained on it as a backup. The police cars were bright and loud as they pushed through the barricades and took the drug dealers by surprise.

Connor and Hank were there when they watched them drag Elias out of the ship, his face twisted in shock as he looked between the two in passing. The android shrugged, flashing his badge with an apologetic smile. Hank shook his head, turning them around so they could return to the precinct, fill out the paperwork, and then go home.

He wouldn’t deny that it took longer than usual for things to settle at home. Now that the excitement of this undercover mission was over, he had nothing but time on his hands, time to reflect, time to regret the choices that he should and shouldn’t have made. Hank hadn’t pressed Connor to say anything, hell, he even pretended to have forgotten, that the brace he’d had to wear those few days after the party was just another accessory.

Connor wanted to talk, but every time he opened his mouth the words escaped him.

Something had changed between them—despite how hard Hank tried to pretend otherwise—there was a line that’d been crossed and now they’d lost sight of it. Connor recoiled at his own actions; the night played back to him in High-Definition. He thought about erasing it from his drive, from saving himself the mental anguish, but he feared the risks outweighed the benefits. He never wanted to do something like that again, not even on accident.

At least it wasn’t _all_ bad. Hank wouldn’t admit it, but he’d stopped drinking as much. Connor wasn’t sure if he was limiting his intake because of guilt or some long-forgotten resolution, but it made Connor smile on more than one occasion to see the lieutenant put the bottle back.

Thinking about Hank while he sat by him, nodding off at the television, was a strange feeling—like he was talking behind his back. He wished he could be frank with the lieutenant, admit what he’d discovered about himself all those nights ago, but a warning flashed in his peripherals—self-preservation kicking in at the worst time.

Hank jumped awake, the feeling of falling the cause. He looked around, clearing his throat before he decided it was best to just go to bed. He turned off the television, submerging them in darkness. It was peaceful for a moment like a world outside didn’t exist and they could just hide at this moment. But that ridiculous notion passed just like time did and Hank excused himself to his bedroom.

Connor sat alone again, like all the nights he’d spent with Hank, save for one. He couldn’t stop thinking about the warmth of that bed, how he’d waited in terrifying anticipation for the lieutenant to come to it, to make it complete. He’d brought them closer, taking liberties that his programming had warned against because it felt right, it brought him comfort—all things considered. Now, he craved that closeness, that warmth, the deep and even breaths of another person with him. Sumo was great, but he was simple compared to Hank, he wasn’t—

He didn’t know when he’d made it to Hank’s door or if he’d knocked or if that had been his imagination. What he did know was he now stood face-to-face with the lieutenant and all his speech functions had shut down.

“Yes, Connor?” Hank asked, far too sleepy to be dealing with the android or whatever existential crisis he’d managed to unearth.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” he asked before he could help himself before he could filter through his needs and wants and make an educated decision on which one was better for his overall health.

 _No. No. No. NO._ “Alright,” Hank sighed, opening the door a fraction, “just don’t hog all the blankets,” he warned, though his tone expressed a lightness he didn’t feel. No sir, he was probably too drunk or not drunk enough because _this_ wasn’t part of the plan when he silently agreed with Connor to never talk about _that_ night again.

“Got it,” Connor said, diving under the covers and taking up as little space as was physically possible. He waited until Hank joined him to sidle closer, crowding the lieutenant’s personal bubble before he could protest and set more ridiculous boundaries between them. He could feel Hank’s heartbeat against his cheek, hear how it quickened and skipped within its cage. It matched his own mechanical whirring, and even as anxious as it made him it reassured him.

“Con—Hank paused, his throat dry and tight—what are you doing?”

“We need to talk,” Connor said, his voice muffled against the other’s shirt. His fingers twitched to hold onto something, but he wasn’t brave enough to admit what.

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” Hank begged, very _not_ in the mood to have this conversation. Maybe it was his fault for pushing it away so long, for not getting counselling for his partner after he’d been traumatized—but he took Connor’s word when he said he was okay, figuring it’d be too painful to find out otherwise.

“I’ve waited, Hank,” Connor began, pushing past his brain telling him to stop, “I’ve waited for the right moment and it never seems to come. I need to talk to you, and I need you to listen, but you don’t have to reply,” he continued, being somewhat merciful.

“Okay,” Hank said, resigned, “the floor’s all yours.”

Connor had one chance to say this clearly if he minced his words, he could lose Hank in the confusion. “The last thing I ever want to do is disappoint you, Hank, I value your opinion too much for that,” he began, setting the stage for what would be his confession, “that’s why I worked so hard to regain your trust in me, to prove myself competent in your eyes.”

Hank figured as much many years ago, so he didn’t state the obvious and let the android finish.

“I didn’t realize how far I could take it,” Connor whispered against Hank’s collar, “I met Elias first. I thought I was ready, I _was_ ready, but he pushed me away—I’d blown my chance again and I just couldn’t live with the fact that I had nothing to give you. I thought so hard for so long that it lost track of time, I preconstructed so many scenarios, all of them ludicrous in retrospect, and that’s when Rudy came. Unexpected. A godsend. I had another chance to make it up to you.

“I knew what he wanted, it’d been prepared before, I could do it now,” Connor chuckled, his throat thick as he held the tears at bay, “it’s just a program, I just had to launch it and let it run its course until it was done. It’d be simple, I just had to let it happen.”

“Connor, you don’t have to continue,” Hank said, sombre as a gravestone. The android had gone still in his arms like he’d fallen asleep or simply stopped existing for a moment. He looked up then, his brown eyes wide and wet, his LED a steady amber.

“What do you think he did to me, Hank?” Connor asked, his face twisting in pain, “do you really think he got to go that far before you interrupted?”

“I-I saw the notifications, I figured he—”

“Fingers and tongue, Hank, you saved me. Again,” Connor said, finally breaking down, “when I heard your voice it thought I’d died, truly, there was no way you could’ve known where I was, not exactly, and just in time to save what little dignity I had left.” Connor buried his head in Hank’s chest, wiping away the worst of his tears. “I’ve been thinking about that moment since it happened, how furious you were, how relieved and scared I was—I never wanna’ feel like that again.”

“I don’t want that for you either, Con,” Hank said, resting an arm around the younger man’s back, embracing him without making it a trap.

“I thought you’d be angry that I’d done something like that, used my body like some cheap device to get what I wanted,” the android said, shivering from the memory, “but you weren’t, you forgave me, you kept me safe, and I’m still unsure how to repay your kindness.”

“Just keep your nose clean and stay out of trouble,” Hank grumbled, feeling the conversation wind down to a close yet finding it impossible to move from his position. Connor had settled in his arms like they’d been made for him from the start. He could feel the lines of his body with more detail than was necessary and one could only behold the object of their affection so long before they were affected by it.

“There must be something you want,” Connor whispered, his palms pressing against Hank’s hard chest, still defined by muscle despite years of misuse.

“Connor,” Hank ground out, a warning if the android had ever heard one, “watch it.”

“Do you want to know the most shameful thing I did before you came to my rescue?” Connor asked, not letting the lieutenant answer before he continued, “I thought of you. I thought of you being the one doing those things to me, of touching and kissing me, of holding me close—like you’re doing now.” Connor got closer, leaving Hank no room to escape lest he falls off the bed attempting it. “I wanted you, and imagining it made the experience bearable.”

“That’s very flattering, Connor,” Hank said, certain he’d died, and this was his infernal punishment for being a dirty old bastard because there was no way he was hearing Connor correctly. “It’s time to go to bed now.”

“I can’t sleep,” Connor admitted, knowing he didn’t have to explain to Hank what he meant. “I haven’t been able to achieve stasis since the incident. Memories of it plague every quiet moment I have—I’m afraid to be by myself with them.”

“You’re not alone,” Hank reassured running his trembling finger’s through the android’s hair, “for what it’s worth, you’ve got me, and Sumo. You’ll never be alone as long as I can help it.” He pressed a kiss against Connor’s forehead, keeping in mind the boundaries he’d erected to protect his heart.

The moment of silence that followed was long enough to trick Hank into thinking Connor had finally gone to sleep. He relaxed, adjusting against his bedpartner until he was comfortable. It was then Connor decided to act. He brought his hands to each side of Hank’s face and pulled them together, his lips warm and wet, familiar in a way that should’ve surprised the lieutenant—but didn’t.

“Mmm, no, Connor,” Hank protested despite his possessive hold on the android’s waist, “you don’t want this,” _you don’t want me_ , is what he’d meant to say.

“I know it might seem strange to you, Hank, that an android could crave the touch of another, but it’s a reality I’ve had to face since deviancy,” Connor revealed, “I’ve wanted you in every capacity since the very start—as a friend, a partner, and more recently as a lover. There is no doubt in my mind that I _do_ want this,” he continued, his brown eyes steady even if the rest of him felt like a candle.

“Ah, fuck,” Hank cursed, dropping his head in shame. How had he let it get this bad? What had he done to the poor kid?

“I’m sorry, Hank,” the android said, beginning a hasty backpedal, “I didn’t mean to unload all of this on you in one night, I’m still trying to learn how to handle these feelings, I just felt it was unfair to keep you oblivious to them.”

“That mouth of yours is gonna’ kill me one of these days, I swear,” Hank grumbled with a shake of his head. His shaggy hair covered his eyes, obscuring how they yearned to behold Connor. He sighed, a deep and longsuffering thing, as he met Connor’s cautious stare. “You’re serious about this?” he asked, never one to hold out hope, but there’s a first for everything.

“More so than anything else I’ve known,” Connor replied, his LED blinking blue. He wasn’t stressed, but he could feel the anxiety of the situation sticking to his wires as thirium pumped through them.

“Fuck,” Hank cursed again, rubbing a hand down his face. Damn them both, honestly.

Before Connor could ask, Hank was on him, shifting them so more of him covered the android. Connor clung to the lieutenant for dear life, his programming shifting gears with embarrassing inefficiency. He always managed to underestimate the lieutenant in some way, it’d do him some good to correct that.

Hank’s lungs burned as they grew hypoxic, but he was loathed to leave the treasure he’d found in Connor’s lips, in the curve of his body, how he responded so keenly to him. It drove away the demons that taunted him for taking advantage, for manipulating the android in some way even though Connor had been the one to confess first.

Good thing, too, Hank would’ve taken his feelings to the grave.

They moved against each other, fitting like puzzle pieces. It made Hank wonder if there was such a thing as soulmates if a machine could qualify. He’d find the thought ridiculous in retrospect, but now it spurred him on to find the answer, to push his tongue deeper into Connor’s mouth and drink up whatever wisdom he found there.

“Hank,” the younger bot said, pulling them apart for a moment, his face bright red and lips slick. It was a beautiful sight, one Hank hoped he’d get to enjoy more often. “How do they say these things?” he asked, sounding upset, his brows furrowing into one.

“Say what?” Hank asked through the quick rise and fall of his chest.

“I want you to fuck me, Hank,” Connor said, the full force of his innocent sincerity hitting Hank harder than it should have. The lieutenant shuddered, holding on to his composure by the skin of his teeth.

“Don’t,” Hank paused, his stomach bottoming out as the words echoed in his skull, too loud, far too loud, “don’t say it like that.”

“Sorry,” Connor whispered, feeling like an idiot.

“It’s fine,” Hank said, taking a deep breath as the iron grip on his soul lessened. He looked at the android, saw the confused worry in his eyes, and sighed knowing one of these days he’d be the death of him. It didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the ride while it lasted.

Hank began a quick trail of kisses down Connor’s body. He lifted his shirt and paused by the thirium pump, warmer than the rest of the skin as it worked overtime to compensate for their midnight activities. Hank licked a trail around the circular indent, feeling his companion shiver and constrict beneath him. He only hesitated at the hem of Connor’s boxers, feeling a last-minute surge of anxiety and doubt.

“Hmm, Hank,” Connor groaned, his hands gripping the sheets as anticipation clawed at his nerves, the lieutenant’s slow progression appreciated but unconducive to progress. “You don’t have to—we don’t feel pain, so...”

“In all my years of knowing you, I never took you to be impatient,” Hank replied, his fingers drawing circles on Connor’s exposed thighs, “anything else you’ve been keeping from me?” he asked, unsure if he should hope for a response or be glad when he didn’t get one.

Connor’s blush grew in magnitude, spreading down his chest like wildfire. It was endearing and reminded the lieutenant that the android had the capacity to be as human as the rest of them. He thanked whatever deity had deemed him worthy of this gift and tried his best not to fuck it up.

Taking Connor into his hand, Hank began a slow rhythm. Despite what he’d been told, his pace wasn’t so much to tease Connor as it was to protect himself from embarrassment. Many of his negative sentiments began with ‘if he were younger,’ now was one of the few times that he thanked his age for his endurance.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Connor cursed, his toes curling as his eyelids fluttered shut. It was a fleeting bliss, as the lieutenant insisted on being gentle. At the risk of embarrassing himself again—Connor was about to protest, but he’d made the mistake of misjudging Hank. It was a lesson he’d have to remember to learn, but if all consequences were this sweet, he wouldn’t mind repeating them.

Many people—from lovers to enemies—had commented how wicked Hank’s mouth could be. Whether it was a biting quip or sucking dick, it never failed to impress. Connor, despite not having a proper basis for what was good or bad, was surely ruined for anyone else. He had his fingers in the lieutenant’s hair, scraping his skull with his blunt nails with each passing bob.

“Ha-ank!” Connor cried, a choked and pained thing when the lieutenant introduced a finger into him without much warning. It was his punishment for being impatient, and god was it beautiful. It completely rewrote whatever previous knowledge he’d obtained in this, banished the beasts that had tormented him.

Made him greedy for more.

“Hank, please,” Connor begged, his hips stuttering against the man’s strong hands, the knots in his stomach twisting themselves into oblivion. “Please, I need more,” he whimpered, his breaths cutting themselves short after each word.

Hank wasn’t cruel, he too was at his breaking point, Connor’s unfiltered honesty something he’d never get used to. He obliged the request by inserting two more fingers, his hand wet and cramping from its position. He’d forgotten androids were self-lubricating—he may have read it in passing on some advertisement in a less-than-reputable website, but whatever the case, it made his job easier.

“ _No_ ,” Connor whined though his body betrayed his displeasure, “I want you, I want more of you, _please_ , in me, I can’t—” His babbling was interrupted by a massive software instability error. The force punched him in the gut and gave him about two seconds of warning before it overtook him.

Hank—having enough foresight for these things—relaxed his throat and let Connor ride out his orgasm to its inevitable conclusion, swallowing with a fervour he’d buried eons ago. He let off when Connor’s LED flashed red, not wanting to push him _too_ over the edge.

Kissing a return trail upwards, he met the android’s slack mouth, letting him taste himself as he calmed down. They stayed still for a moment, catching their breaths. Connor looked satisfied, with his eyes closed and a small smile playing on his lips. It only took a slight shift to disturb him, to remind him they weren’t done.

“Hank, you haven’t climaxed yet,” the android said, distress marring his relaxed features.

“Shh,” Hank began, reminding himself to teach the android how to use ‘bedroom speak,’ “we’ll get to that in a second, just focus on yourself for a moment—you spend too much time worrying about me,” he continued, pressing a soft kiss against Connor’s head. Not for nothing, though, he was glad his partner hadn’t forgotten about his discomfort or his pleasure.

“I only worry because you don’t,” Connor returned, emboldened to start without Hank. Inexperienced as he was, he learned quickly. Taking advantage of this, he ran his fingers across the lieutenant’s arms feeling the shivers and the goosebumps erupt against him. One of his hands broke free from the pattern and ventured farther south, caressing the lieutenant over his pyjama bottoms. He felt the heaviness of the man above him, squeezed so it would fill his palm, yearned for it to be in him—

“Con,” Hank said, his tone cautionary, “if you want this to last longer than it has, you need to stop that.”

The android nodded, retrieving his naughty hand. He waited with bated breath for Hank to continue, to relieve them both of this infernal suspense. He didn’t have to wait long, for the lieutenant didn’t require much convincing.

Connor’s legs fell open on their own accord, accommodating Hank’s weight. He felt his heart beat hard in its mechanical cage, skipping a few beats when Hank adjusted their position. There was only a moment’s hesitation, a quiet nod of permission before they joined. Connor couldn’t have imagined what this would feel like. He could’ve run simulations (which he had) and learned second hand (which he did), but nothing prepared him for this.

Like a fish out of water, Connor gasped against Hank’s mouth, his fingers gripping his biceps, leaving bruises for tomorrow. He’d lost the capacity to speak, to see and feel anything other than Hank. What he could voice he did so with choked whimpers and broken cries. The software instability errors piled high in his peripherals, subconsciously he disabled the notifications, choosing to enjoy the overstimulation.

Hank was handling himself better than he thought he could, tapping into that primal knowledge that bound humans (and androids) together. He pushed Connor’s thighs into his chest, wishing he _could_ leave bruises, a mark, anything that would show how intimate they’d become. He’d have to settle for a stolen kiss, for the bright red scratch marks running down his back and arms, for Connor squeezing the ever-loving soul out of him.

“ _Hng,_ ” Connor groaned, biting hard on his bottom lip, “I think I’m gonna’, _oh_ , I’m gonna—” he was interrupted by a full-body shudder, the magnitude of it rattling his core. If he could sweat, he’d be drowning in it, but as it stood his body kept overheating with no release. He imagined this was the closest thing to pain he’d feel.

“It’s okay, Connor,” Hank said, feeling close himself, “you can come,” he continued, his will-power weak. It was as if he were permitting them both to reach their peak, because as soon as Connor climaxed, Hank was right there with him, a cascade of grunts and moans, concluding with a kiss and the collapse of their bodies.

They panted against each other, the moment feeling intimate in the quiet of the night. Connor was overwhelmed, but unlike every other time he’d found his senses under attack, he didn’t feel like shutting down. He revelled in this feeling, the mechanical soreness in his limbs, how sparks still flew behind his lids. He was sure a diagnostic machine would read him as inoperable.

“When can we do that again?” Connor asked, his voice light and dreamy.

Hank chuckled, yanking his limbs from the sticky mess, trying to clean them as best as he could in their predicament. “I don’t know, Con,” he admitted, his embarrassment seeping through his countenance, “let me get through tonight first.”

Connor ducked his head, his cheeks in a perpetual state of pink. He didn’t want to ruin anything about tonight with his eagerness, and he’d be damned if he said something to jeopardize his chances at a second (or third, or _more_ ) in the future. He watched Hank toss away his soiled clothes, a problem for later as he settled back in bed. Connor felt a strong urge to bury himself in the lieutenant’s arms, much like the urge that’d compelled him to his door in the first place.

Lucky for him, their interests had aligned and though cautious, they decided to act on their simplest of desires. Connor buried his messy curls in the crook of Hank’s neck, pressing a light kiss against his pulse point.

“Thank you,” he whispered, closing his eyes, “I think I can sleep now.”

Hank huffed, shaking his head as he smoothed a hand down the android’s scalp. “Goodnight, Con.” He wasn’t as easily persuaded into sleep’s embrace as his companion had been, his mind too overactive to relax.

All that ran through his head was what he’d done. Now that the high had left him, he didn’t know what else to feel but a strange sense of disappointment. He should’ve been stronger than his lust, should’ve given Connor the option to rethink his stance. They’d both been too eager.

Though, if he had to be honest, he’d needed this. He couldn’t say whether it was the comfort of knowing something out there still wanted him or that he could fulfill a need. He just knew Connor had reminded him what true happiness felt like—however fleeting.

_When can we do that again?_

_Never_ , if his mind had anything to do with it.

 _Forever_ , if his heart had a say.

 _Later_ , Hank thought, the final authority on both.

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah, I suck at smut or whatever that was, but I hope it was a satisfying yet sappy conclusion. Very cheesy, but appropriate for that "comfort" tag.


End file.
